The Listener
by Lythenia
Summary: Harry Potter isn't like his family. He can hear things, things that should stay silent, and to make things worse he's incapable of magic. Fearing for his safety as the squib brother of the BWL, little Harry is hidden from the world and sent away. But there was someone watching, and waiting. Because there are people like him who can do special thing. We call them Superheroes.
1. Chapter 1

A/N: Hello all! After reading almost every single Harry/Avengers fic that doesn't have OC's as mains, I've decided to expand the fandom a bit. I hope you like it!

Edit (10/07/2012): Betaed by the lovely BlueRubyBeat!

Also, you might need this:

"Normal speech."

'Mind speak'

- L1573N -

I listened, motionless and still;

And, as I mounted up the hill,

The music in my heart I bore,

Long after it was heard no more.

- William Wordsworth

- L1573N -

Chapter 00: Listening In

The little boy with the too green eyes is sitting on the steps leading to the second floor. His name is Harry James Potter. James like his father, and Harry after his mother's father. He can hear the loud voices of his parents coming from the kitchen. They've been yelling a lot, lately.

This time, others are joining in. The voices of Padfoot and Moony scream "wrong" while Professor Dumbledore says "necessary". They are talking – yelling – about Harry. He knows because it's always been that way.

Mother and Father and Moony and Padfoot and all the others can do things. They call it magic. But Harry can't, because he's a 'Squib'.

Mother says he is born that way, that it's not his fault, that they love him no matter what. But Harry can see the pity in her eyes, the sad way Moony and Padfoot look at him and the way Father tries not to see him at all.

Harry is five, so he doesn't always understand, but he can still see it. And even when he doesn't see it, he can still hear it. Because Harry has a gift. He tried to tell them, but they only smile down at him and explain what a Squib is. Harry tried to tell them that he knows what a Squib is, that he understands. Harry knows he can't do magic, won't ever go to Hogwarts. He knows that.

But that doesn't change the fact that he can hear things. He can hear the voices of his parents, even when there not talking. He can hear what they say when they don't want to tell him. He can hear everybody, even when they don't want him to.

After a while, he stops trying to explain.

It hurts sometimes.

There are so many voices that Harry doesn't really know what to do. Luckily, his parents don't let him leave the house often. His head throbs when there are too many people around.

The front door slams, startling him out of his mussing. Someone sighs. The yelling is over, so now they talk. Harry can't hear their spoken-voices anymore, so he listens to the Other ones.

'No! He's my _son_. How can you agree to this, James?' Mother sounds sad. Harry doesn't like it when she's sad. Sadness isn't a pretty emotion.

'Does she really think I don't care? Of course I care! That's why I'm doing this! I just want him to be safe.'

Harry is so focused on the voices that he doesn't notice when Alex come to sit beside him on the steps. Alexander Marcus Potter is Harry's little brother. He's four. He doesn't understand why Harry is different, or why he knows things he shouldn't. He doesn't understand why Mommy and Daddy don't let his big brother go places when they always take him.

"What are you doing, Harry?" His little voice is curious, and Harry smiles at him. He likes his brother. He's too little to understand that Harry's a Squib, so he doesn't treat him different, like the adults do.

"I'm listening." Harry is too distracted to notice that the voices have moved closer to them, that they know he heard.

The door to the kitchen opens, and out comes Lily and James Potter, followed by Albus and people Harry doesn't recognize.

"You shouldn't have been eavesdropping, Harry," Dumbledore says, in his teacher voice.

Harry doesn't answer and just looks at him, focusing on his Silent Voice. All he can hear is 'Greater Good' repeated several times, like a mantra and a repeat of the conversation. He tilts his head to the side a little, confused. "Why do I need to leave?"

Mother starts to cry when he says that, so he gets up to go give her a hug. He doesn't like it when mother is sad. Father takes a deep breath and goes to Alex. Father tries to like them both, but Harry knows Father likes Alex better. He doesn't mind, though.

"How much of that did you hear, Harry?" Dumbledore is the one that looks confused now, which is understandable because none of them ever said that out loud.

"Most. Why don't you want me to stay anymore?" Harry wants to understand. He wants to know why they're sending him away. Mother is the one to talk, even though she's still crying.

"Oh sweetie, of course we want you to stay, but it's not safe here. We're sending you where you can be safe." She petting his hair while saying that, kneeling before him to look at him.

"But then why aren't you coming too?" It's an innocent question, but Harry is using it to Hear what she won't ever Tell him. She's talking again, but he's more focused on what only he can Hear.

'Not safe for him. The war is no place for a Squib. He'll be an easy target for the Death Eaters. They'll kill him! It's better this way.'

"Do you understand, Harry? We promise to come visit you whenever we can (when it's safe, her Voice says) and you'll have Hedwig so you can send us lots of letters. You'll like it there. There will be other children, most of them around your age. You'll have lots of friends to play with."

She starts crying again and hugs him tightly. The others simply watch, silent.

Harry leaves the very next day.

- L1573N -

They bring him to a muggle orphanage on the far side of London. Far enough that no one would recognize him, but close enough that no one would ever think of looking for him there.

The Abbey is a private funded orphanage, run by an elderly couple who've had the misfortune of outliving all their children. They're wealth, as shown by the size and upkeep of the property. It looks more like a mansion than anything else. And with the rather extravagant donation made by the Potters, they would have no problem caring for Harry.

While Dumbledore and the aurors were busy setting up wards of all varieties around the property, the Potters where telling the muggles their cover story, explaining why they were sending Harry there when they were clearly relatives.

They were the poor boy's uncle and aunt, his only living family on this mother's side. Since they were both part of the army and travelled a lot, Jonathan – James – a captain and Rose – Lily – a nurse, they felt unfit to care for him. They didn't feel they could provide a suitably stable environment for a boy like Harry, who had just lost both his parents and younger brother in a tragic fire.

The muggles were unhappy but understanding, and assured them they would care for their nephew until they could do so themselves.

They leave with a last tearful goodbye. That's the last time they see Harry James Potter.

- L1573N -

Living the life of a muggle doesn't make Harry a particularly happy little boy. He has memories of another world, and of another life. He remembers the House with the magic, his parents and little brother. He remembers people that loved him, even though he was different. It's hard to remember something that is no longer yours.

His parents still send him a letter a week, but it's not the same. He hasn't seen them since they brought him here, and he can't help but to think that they're forgetting him. Especially Alex, who was only four the last time they spoke face to face.

It's not all bad, though. He has his own room, friends, a pet. The caretakers are nice, even though there are well over thirty children there, all between the age of three and sixteen. At age seven, Harry is already seen as a prodigy, far brighter than his peers.

So no, Harry is not happy. But for now, he is content.

- L1573N -

"The first duty of love is to listen."

- Paul Tillich

- L1573N -

Nearly a full two years after first arriving to this place Harry can almost call home, things change again.

A few times a week, during the warmer months at least, the children gather at a park located only a few minutes away from the orphanage. Harry particularly enjoys the swings. If he goes really fast and high, it almost feels like flying. The bitter-sweet memories of flying with Padfoot are particularly sharp then.

Regardless, he enjoys the wind against his face and the rocking motion of the swings.

Harry is doing just that when he sees the flash of silver. There's a woman sitting on the bench closest to him. She's looking at the play structures, so Harry assumes she's here with her child. She's very pretty. Even if the silver hair looks a little out of place on her youthful face.

He doesn't mean to, but he ends up zoning in on her Voice. What he hears is strange and surprising and _wonderful_ enough to make him stop swinging entirely.

'Hello Harry Potter. Are you listening to me yet?' She's repeating the same things over and over and Harry gets a little curious. It doesn't occur to him to be distrustful of this strange woman who knows his name, so he gets off the swing and goes to sit beside her. He doesn't say anything, and neither does she, not out loud at least.

'I was wondering how long you would make me wait.' She doesn't say anything for a while, and Harry wonders if he should talk to her.

'Since I know your name already, I'll just go ahead and introduce myself. My name is Eryn Da Silva.' She waits a moment longer.

'Aren't you going to say hello?' Harry is a little startled and answers before he can think about it further. "Hello Eryn." She finally turns towards him and smiles. "Hello Harry." He smiles back, a little shyly. She has a very kind smile. She doesn't speak out loud again.

'I'm sure you're wondering who I am, and how I know about your gift.' She's facing the playground again so she doesn't see it when he nods.

'To put it simply, I'm like you. I'm different, though my gift is not the same as yours. Would you like to know what it is?' She looks at him again, with a sneaky little smile. As if they were partners in crime, Harry's young mind supplies. He nods again, fervently.

Her smile becomes a full blown grin before answering in the hushed tone of someone parting with a great secret. "I see the would's and could's and should's. Do you know what that means, Harry?"

Harry shakes his head immediately and waits for her to explain. When she doesn't, he turns away and thinks about it, finding the nursery rhyme like sentence absurdly simple when he actually stops to consider it. "Choices." Regardless of how easy it is, he grins happily, especially when she smiles approvingly at him.

'That's right, Harry. I see the outcomes of all important choices. And that's why I'm here. I want you to come with me.' Her every Word is tinged with so much _acceptance_ and _fondness_ that Harry doesn't hesitate before flinging himself into her arms and clinger to her, feeling her arms grip him just as tightly.

"I can teach you to control it, Harry. You don't need to be alone anymore," she whispers softly, so close to his ear that no one else could possible hear it.

And for the first time in a very, very long time, Harry is happy.

- L1573N -

"It is the province (duty) of knowledge to speak, and it is the privilege of wisdom to listen."

- Oliver Wendell Holmes

- L1573N -

She adopts him within the week. His muggle caretakers are reluctant to let him leave, since he still has living relatives, but she pulls as many strings as needed to adopt him, drastically speeding the whole process.

He sends them one last letter before leaving, though he doesn't tell them that.

He doesn't bring much. Only enough clothes to last until they get to her home in the USA and Hedwig. Even though he has no intention of contacting his parents again, not for a while at least. He'll miss them of course, and little Alex, but now that he knows that there's at least one other person like him, one person with a gift, one person who _understands_, he doesn't really need them anymore.

She owns a beautiful twenty-three acre parcel of land on the east coast, between New York and Boston. On it stands a three story Victorian manor, well-kept if a little too big for only two people.

"This is the family home, Harry. Seven generations of Da Silva's have lived here, all of us with our own talents. Do you know what Silva means, Harry?" He shook his head in the negative, unsure of what she's getting at.

"Silva is Latin for forest. The first Da Silva could speak to trees and influence nature. She was the first one in our family to be blessed with a gift. Before her, our last name was Kolb, but we chose to honour her memory by taking her name as our own."

Harry thinks that she must have been a great woman indeed, to inspire people to name themselves after her.

He's so busy thinking about what she must have been like to notice that they're inside and on the third floor.

"This will be your room, Harry. We'll need to buy you some new things, of course, but the furniture should be acceptable. What do you think, Harry? Do you like it?"

Harry is speechless for a few moments. He's never seen a bedroom this big, not even in the House. And it's _his_.

The first thing Harry really notices, past the size, is the windows. The entire far wall has floor to ceiling windows, giving him a wonderful view of the garden and beyond it the ocean.

There's also a little alcove with a bench, perfect for reading. Beside it, he has a desk and in the corner, a bookshelf.

The opposite wall has a four poster bed with blue drapes. Harry can see what looks like a dresser and a smaller bookshelf beside it.

He loves it so much that all he can do is nod, but that's all right, because she understands.

- L1573N -

Unbeknown to Harry, his birth parents were freaking out a continent away.

Worried because Harry hadn't answered their last later, they went to visit him, against their better judgement and Albus' wishes. He had never failed to answer them before, even when he was sick, so there concern was understandable.

Concern which only intensified when they learned that he had been adopted almost a full week prior to their arrival. They pleaded and threatened the muggle for the name and location of the person who had adopted him, but they refused.

Distraught, Lily ended up using Legilimency on them in a fit of desperate accidental magic. Unfortunately, her lack of proper skill made finding the information difficult, not to mention the damage it caused the muggles.

She felt horrible after, but by then it was too late. The muggles minds were too damaged for even Albus to recover anything worthwhile, and the records they kept proved to be false.

Even the wards they had placed around the property and on Harry were useless. All they could tell them was that he was in excellent physical and mental condition.

Regardless of how little they knew, – only that he was safe, and that it couldn't possibly be a Death Eater – the Potters sent search party after search party after him, using every resource available.

They managed to trace his residual energy signal all the way to the airport before losing it.

- L1573N -

It takes a month for Harry to fully settle into Silva Manor. Eryn made sure to buy him lots of new things, so it feels like his room, and his house. He likes it there. The gardens live up to their name, and there's even a pool, not that he needs it since the ocean is right _there_. Harry hasn't seen the ocean before, and he finds that he likes it. At night, he can hear the crashing of the waves against the shore from his room up on the third floor.

The house is nice and big, with loads of places for him to explore. He's met all the staff, and even befriended a few of them.

But it still doesn't feel like Home.

It takes him a while to figure out why, but when he does, he goes straight to Eryn. He doesn't give himself a chance to chicken out. Because this is something he needs to do if he wants to _belong_. And that's all Harry's ever wanted.

So one afternoon, he corners her in her office, and starts talking.

"I don't want to be Harry Potter anymore. I want to be someone new, I want to be _me_." Harry knows it doesn't really make sense – after all, his name does not dictate who he is – but that doesn't change the way he feels. He doesn't want to be reminded of the parents who didn't want him every time he introduces himself, he doesn't want to be reminded of the life that abandoned him every time someone calls his name.

He knows he hasn't really explained himself, but he's not sure how else to say it. But she understands, because she smiles at him. And what a relief that is, to be _understood_. Nobody's ever been able to _get_ him like she does. He remembers, a little belatedly, that she's probably seen this. It's an important choice, after all. But he also realizes that it means that she waited for him. She didn't simply tell him what to do, like they did. She waited, and she _listened_, and she _heard_ him. Harry finds he really, really likes that.

"All right then. You'll need to pick yourself a new name." Harry is a little uncertain when she says that, because it's hard to pick an entirely new name. What if he picks a name that isn't him? She must read the unease on his face because before he can say anything, she laughs.

"Don't worry, silly. I'll help you."

Two days later, they've found a name they can both agree on. Harry James Potter is gone, and in his place there is Hadrian Alastair Da Silva. Hadrian is not too different from Harry, so he can't forget who he was born as. And Alistair, she say, means 'defender of men'. It's a suitable name, a name he can grow into. A name that is all him.

- L1573N -

At the same time, across the Atlantic Ocean, the wards tied to Harry James Potter suddenly and inexplicably blinks out of existence. He's pronounced deceased the very next day, and the Wizarding World moved on.

Except for Lily.

Every week, once a week she writes a letter. And every week, Hedwig shows up (with no letter) and flies away with it. Lily hasn't lost hope that she's taking them to Harry, even though James doesn't believe her and tells her to move on.

She can't.

But she's right not to, because Hadrian gets them all.

The first time Hedwig brought him one, he tried to send it back, but she refused. No matter how many times he tells her to stop getting them, she still goes once a week, without fail, to pick up Lily's letters. And he keeps them all.

- L1573N -

A/N: I can't find any actual dates for the Avengers time line, so unless any of you can help me with that (i.e. Tell me the day Tony told the world "I am Iron Man"), I'm making stuff up, m'kay? Thank you all.

On another note, I'm a first year university student who really shouldn't be stating a new fic. Updating will be really really REALLY slow, but chapters should all be fairly long.

Edit (10/07/2012): I've changed Harry's name from 'Hadrian Caius Da Silva' to 'Hadrian Alistair Da Silva'. Big thank you to everyone who suggested names! Regardless, his middle name will probably only be used once or twice after this, so ignore it if you don't like it. XD

Feel free to drop me a review!


	2. Chapter 2

So. Several people have asked me why I haven't updated in ages. (Consider this a collective answer, since there are – surprisingly – a lot of you.) Well, I managed to catch pneumonia at the end of Christmas break and spent a little over two weeks in the hospital. And since those 2+ weeks involved missing university, I had a lot of catching up to do, which damn near sent me back to the hospital what with living off of coffee and little to no sleep. I'm completely fine now, (and mostly not failing) but I quite honestly have no motivation/time to write. That DOES NOT mean that I'm abandoning my fics, but I just can't right now. Everything I've written just sort of dies halfway through. Sorry guys. So really, I doubt you'll be seeing much of me until May (at least) since that's the end of term. Again, I am NOT abandoning my fics, I just can't write anything semi decent at the moment.

-Lythenia


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